“Enriel,” Varen said, the name coming out as a relieved sigh. Before they had set out, he had confided to Korik that he was worried about her. The letter informing them of her safe delivery had been an immense relief to him; but he still fretted over how she would fare back in their hometown, how long she might remain with their parents and brother, and how she would adapt to being a mother.
But her smile was bright as she waved to them, and she burst into laughter as Varen all but leapt off his horse and ran to her. Korik watched him stop abruptly, and instead of throwing his arms around her as he so obviously wanted to, he gave her a gentle hug. Korik got off his own horse much more calmly, then led all three beasts into the yard. K’lir had been leashed to him as they entered the city, just to ensure there was no trouble. He was clearly more interested in the sounds of livestock than anything happening in front of them, but followed Korik obediently—Roz trotted curiously behind him, ensuring he behaved.
“I’m so glad to see you both,” Enriel chuckled. “It’s going to be a full house. Auntie Laena is still here, too. Mother and Father have been equal parts insufferable and invaluable, as I’m sure you can imagine, Varen.”
“And Caedes?” Varen asked, grinning at her.
“A surly teenager, as always,” she sighed, but then smiled down at the infant in her other arm. “He does like being an uncle, though.”
“What name did you decide on?” Varen asked, peering down at the child.
To Korik’s surprise, she looked shyly at him before answering. “His name is Cyrin. It comes from the elven wordcyraes—steadfast.”
Korik felt himself freeze in shock. She had named her son steadfast, after him. It was not exact—elves did not have the given titles orcs received upon adulthood—but the sentiment was there.
He blinked rapidly against the tears that were suddenly welling in his eyes. Her shy smile up at him faltered, but he spoke quickly,
“That’s a—a good name. Thank you, Enriel. This is a great honor.”
She beamed up at him, clearly pleased. “You saved both our lives. It’s the least I could do.”
“Is Varen here?” a voice called from within the cottage. Laena appeared behind Enriel in the doorway, a smile splitting her face. “There he is! And Healer Korik, too. We’re so pleased to have you here. Caedes, come and help with the horses!”
There was a flurry of activity as all of Varen’s family came bustling out of the cottage, leaving Korik with no time to sort through his feelings about the child’s name. It was not exactly how Korik would have wanted to meet Varen’s entire family, but it couldn’t be helped.
Varen’s parents greeted him kindly. His father, Cendel, looked just like Varen, and he gave Korik a firm handshake; while his mother, Faerel, clasped his hand with both of hers and thanked him profusely for saving Enriel. Their youngest brother, Caedes, looked up at him with some apprehension at first, but Varen had warned him it would likely be so—teenage boys had more similarities than not, whether elf or orc, it seemed. The family resemblance was strong now that Korik had seen them all: they all had the same raven-black hair and hazel eyes, except Faerel’s and Caedes’ eyes were a darker brown.
Laena chatted with him amicably as she led him and Caedes to help put the horses and mule out to pasture. Caedes was sullen and silent, but his eyes brightened when he finally noticed K’lir following Korik.
“You can have these as a pet?” the boy asked, looking curiously down at K’lir.
“He is not a pet,” Korik replied quickly, then hesitated. “He is mostly tame, though. His name is K’lir. Offer him your hand, and you may pet him.”
He and Laena finished with the horses as Caedes occupied himself with K’lir, Roz observing from Korik’s shoulder.
“Varen told us about you two in his letter,” Laena said softly, as they were brushing down the horses. Korik flushed, but nodded resolutely—he had known the contents of Varen’s letter. “Enriel and I weren’t surprised, of course. His parents were a little... uncertain at first. But after everything we’ve told them, they have a glowing opinion of you. I think they were more shocked he was retiring than anything else. So don’t be too nervous. They like you already.”
Hehadbeen anxious about meeting Varen’s family, but so far, it was going well enough.
“Thank you,” he said softly. And when she smiled up at him, he even managed a small smile back.
When they rejoined the rest of the family in the cottage, dinner was being set out. Korik moved to help, but Enriel waved him over to where she was sitting, the baby in her arms. As he approached, he could see that the child was awake and alert, his big, dark eyes looking around the room. He had a dusting of black hair on his head, and his ears came to tiny points. When his eyes found Korik, he stared and didn’t look away. Here in the village, Korik doubted he had ever seen an orc before.
But with any luck, he thought, he would be in this child’s life for a long time.
“Come sit,” Enriel said. “You’re a guest. Mother would never let you help.”
“I see,” Korik said, sitting down stiffly beside her.
“Do you want to hold him?” she asked with a smile. After a beat, he nodded.
He had held many babies before, some the moment they were born. Still, his heartbeat quickened as Enriel passed the tiny elf into his waiting arms. He was so much smaller than orc babies, so much slimmer, even swaddled in warm blankets. It felt different, holding this infant that he knew, that he had so quickly come to care for.
“He recognizes you,” Enriel murmured, stroking the baby’s cheek with one finger. “Don’t you, Cyrin? You know that’s your uncle.”
The baby made a soft cooing noise and yawned. His little limbs squirmed against his blankets, then relaxed again. His throat tightened with unshed tears all over again—it felt as though he had cried more in these months with Varen than ever before in his life, mostly from joy.
Still, he did not want the whole elf family to see him cry over the baby, so he cleared his throat and looked at Enriel.
